Fractured Fragility
by Chauni
Summary: AU; shonen ai; lots of language; Duo, forced to live in an abusive home, is forced into a role he accepts for the sake of someone else.


Author: Chauni

Email: ChauniMaxwell@mechpilot.com

Website: www.geocities.com/asukalangley2nd/

Warnings: Angst, Language, Verbal and physical abuse, AU, Death (not pilot's though), Original characters (parents), Shonen-ai

Pairings: 2+5, 3+4

Disclaimer: I don't own GW or the song "Wonderful", by Everclear. I made no money off this…blah.

Fractured Fragility 

"It's sad, really, Miss Maxwell. I'm afraid that he hasn't responded to any of the treatments we have attempted concerning his current state of withdrawal and rage. We may have to commit him for a longer term than the courts dictated."

            "But, I thought you said there was some progress with the Paxil and the other medications, Dr. Silverstien."

            "At first, we believed there had been, but unfortunately, there was a relapse; one more pronounced than any of the others. Do you know, perhaps, what caused such a thing?"

_I close my eyes when I get too sad_

_I think thoughts that I know are bad_

Close my eyes and I count to ten 

_Hope it's over when I open them_

            Lying in the simple twin bed, the young boy with the braid almost as long as he was tall stared at the ceiling with eyes that tore into his soul. His gaze, try as hard as he might, still fell just short of dispassionate, and lazily traced that same crack along the ceiling for the fifteenth time during the last twelve minutes. God, he hated knowing the time that passed; when he counted those endless moments, they always lasted an eternity. It was like watching water boil; it never happened quickly if you stared at it.

            The voices always surrounded him, wrapping him so thoroughly, he had even begun to wonder if they were solely in his head. But…he could hear them now, as they rampaged throughout the house, bouncing off painted pleasant walls, a mockery of a happy life. 

            "I don't care what the fuck you have to say anymore!"

            "Go to hell, you son of a bitch! I'm tired of your lies! I'm sick of your pointless shit and comments that make me feel like I'm worth nothing!"

            "It's cause you're not, you cheap-ass whore!"

            Ah, back to _that_ popular retort. Sure, his mother had cheated once, with some guy she had met at work, what was his name? Treize? Yeah, something like that. But, can you blame her? His father did nothing but scream and yell, degrading her and everything she was. Sure, she looked different from the tender age of seventeen when they had met, but that happened with time. But, to call her stupid, pointless, lazy…Hell, anyone would look for love after hearing that for years on end.

            Violet pools shifted to the window, gazing out it solemnly. Did they know he could hear him? Probably… Did they care?

            When did they ever?

_I want the things that I had before_

_Like a Star Wars poster on my bedroom door_

_I wish I could count to ten_

_Make everything be wonderful again_

            God, what, maybe six years ago, when he was ten years old, so impressionable, so young and tender, they had lived in Detroit, actually, in a nice little suburb called Milford. Glass encased a perfect picture-frame of a life, outward appearances being that of the polished silver that they had been ordered to live.

            But, of course, although it hadn't been perfect, for nothing ever truly was, other than sunsets and the smell of fresh rain, it had been an odd shade of happiness. His toys had been numerous, his parents wore hollow smiles with solid eyes like soulless dolls, and their arguments had been hushed and out of earshot. Who could ask for anything more, really?  

            Smiling now, as he traced that crack once again, he remembered with a forlorn hazy cloud of the fractured fragility of everything in that crystal life. How much they had cared not to battle in front of him, since he was impressionable and young. 

            They had waited a whole year to begin that.

            They had loved him…once.

_Hope my mom and I hope my dad_

_Will figure out why they get so mad_

_Hear them scream, I hear them fight_

They say bad words that make me wanna cry

            Then the news had come, that horrifying news of moving to Topeka, Kansas, away from their convenient little home in their picturesque little town to somewhere far away. Father had gotten a transfer with his job, and even though Mother had wished to remain, she left with him, following along always, even as he screamed that she was lagging behind…screaming that she had to whether she wanted to or not…screaming even as Duo, young eleven year old child Duo, flinched and looked down, afraid.

            How it had digressed from there, as they lived within a small two bedroom bungalow worth only a quarter of what their other house had been. Father had claimed they needed nothing more than this, as he was tired of his mother wasting all of his money on frivolous objects. She had denied such accusations, but he had glared, had growled, and had threatened things that young ears thankfully missed, and she objected no longer. 

            But, then entire house, the entire town, begged for battle, whispered evil promises in the depths of the night, and those callings fell on eager ears. The arguments began to escalate, and even revealed themselves to a pair of soft amethyst eyes that peeked around corners, spying where they should not have been.

            "I told you, you can't use our fucking money for stupid shit like that!"

            "He needs clothes, damnit! Can't you see the holes in the knees of his pants?"

            "He's a growing boy; of course he's going to have holes in his fucking clothes! Now, shut the hell up and quit bugging me before I make you, bitch!"

            But, that threat was fulfilled before she could even provoke him any longer, as his hand cut through the air like a gunshot and struck her across the face, sending her to the ground in a weeping heap.

            And those amethyst orbs, wide with fear, disappeared from around the corner, leaking diamond tears as the bearer of them ran to a small little room, ran to cry, to cry away all the pain and fear that had grasped his soul with steel hands and began to squeeze it dry.

_Close my eyes when I go to bed_

_And I dream of angels who make me smile_

I feel better when I hear them say 

_Everything will be wonderful someday_

            And now, it was five years later, and those arguments still rang in the confines of the small little bungalow that had outgrown Duo months after they had moved in. His smile had grown strained; his eyes had grown dull with weary acceptance of what life held for him. 

            Escape. Such a fleeting dream, like the ones where you wake up and wish nothing more for the world to end after, since life can never make you as happy as you were for those few slumbering seconds.

            Who knew that angel's wings were so warm? That they could be so gentle and so happy and bear such simple names like "Solo" and "Heero"? 

            He grew to despise the daylight and the reality it bore with it on dusty wings.

_Promises mean everything when you're little and the world's so big_

_I just don't understand how_

_You can smile with all those tears in your eyes_

_Tell me everything is wonderful now_

Please don't tell me everything is wonderful now 

            The morning brought him down to the small alcove of a kitchen, sitting at the Formica table and staring at the runny eggs before him as if he had never seen such things before. Slowly, he drug his gaze up to the one black ring that circled his mother's beautiful cerulean eye, and then fell once more with a small hateful need for vengeance.

            Slowly, she took a seat beside him, resting a consoling hand on his back as she stared at him with crystal tears forming in the one perfect orb. Her fingernails lightly moved up his back as if wishing to draw the tears from his own small body.

            "We'll get away, honey, I promise. Your father won't be able to find us, and everything will be perfect. You just listen to me, okay? Everything will be wonderful."

            His gaze ripped itself from the breakfast before him to her battered face, as he parted his full lips to make a comment. But the desperation of believing in a better life was clear in her eyes, so he nodded, shedding her a small, hollow smile, and nibbled at the eggs. "Sure, mom, wonderful."

_I go to school and I run and play_

_I tell the kids that it's all okay_

_I laugh aloud so my friends won't know_

_When the bell rings I just don't wanna go home_

            "Duo, you're coming over tonight, right?"

            His violet oculars shifted over to the owner of the voice, and spied the soft golden locks of his best friend, his confident, the one that knew it all…or at least, knew the most. 

            "Quatre! Yeah, I'm going to try, but I have to ask my dad," he replied, his voice slowly trailing off, even as his eyes held that false brilliance that never faded in their lies.

            "Are you sure you're all right, Duo?" the blonde boy whispered, his face filled with his customary concern when dealing with those fake eyes.

            "Never better!" Ah, have ever such lies dripped from soft lips so easily?

            Quatre, having dealt with the braided boy for a good many years now, since his initial arrival to quiet Topeka, just nodded and smiled in return, knowing full well that the boy would come to him when he was comfortable…if there would ever be such a time. "All right, Duo. I hope to see you at my house around three. I got the new Gundam video game."

            "And we all know that I'm going to win," interjected Wufei, who was coming up to the two comrades, all the while pushing the obsidian locks that shimmered in the overhead fluorescent lights away from his face. 

            "In your dreams!" Duo cried, smiling fully for the first time that day. It came natural when he was around the sloe-eyed Asian man, that man who had captured his heart and didn't know it.

            "So you think, Maxwell, so you think," but he was smirking and winking. Maybe he did know after all.

            "Three o' clock, Duo," Quatre reminded while walking away to his own lover, the stoic Trowa Barton, who was currently rooting through his locker on the other end of the hall.

            "I'll be there, Q." 

            _God knows, any place is better than home…_

_Go to my room and I close my eyes_

_I make believe that I have a new life_

I don't believe you when you say 

_Everything will be wonderful someday_

The response to his inquiry had been "no", just as it usually was. So, sighing, he had escaped once more to his room, practicing broken smiles and happy eyes into the mirror on his dresser. God, he looked shattered and whipped, flogged beyond belief even to himself as he stared onward.

            Somewhere, far away, the phone rang, a shrill cry that rang above the loud all-mighty television. His father had grabbed it, had yelled into it, saying that no, Duo couldn't talk, that no, Duo couldn't come over, that no, Duo wouldn't be seeing him, and finally growling and slamming the phone down.

            And, as customary, the yelling ensued, bouncing through random vents to fill his room with cruel words and accusations, whip his ears with thoughts and fears.

            "Our son isn't hanging around some blonde faggot, damnit! That Winner kid is nothing but a fucking pansy-bitch!"

            "Honey, calm down! You don't know that!"

            _Hmph. How amusing would it be if you knew I wasn't that different from Quatre…if you knew how I felt? Of course, I'm sure you wouldn't care enough to dig either way, would you? I'm open wide…come and clean me._

            "I've fucking seen the little bitch looking at Duo, damn near drooling all over him! And speaking of our brat, I wanted to talk to you about his hair! It's too fucking long! He looks like a hippie homo little shit! I won't stand for our kid to be a faggot, too, damnit! Get me the scissors!"

            As the footsteps sounded under the door, Duo's hands found their way around the cherished rope, hot tears burning his amethyst pools.  _Oh, God, no… NO!_

Promises mean everything when you're little and the world is so big  
I just don't understand how  
You can smile with all those tears in your eyes  
When you tell me everything is wonderful now

            "I'm sorry, Duo, really I am. I didn't know...that he would go this far."

            The dull words fell on oblivious ears; his mother's begging for forgiveness mattered no more than the fly that buzzed repeatedly against the window, begging to be let out. His eyes were glued to the vanity mirror before him, to the broken violet eyes that housed dangling bangs and jagged short chestnut hair that ended in small spikes at the base of his neck.

            _I'm so ugly. My… my hair…how could he…?_

            "_Long hair is for pussies and women, and no son of mine will be either one of those, damnit!"_

            His father…gruff, eyes dark and storming as he took the shears to his hair, his long shimmering vanity and cut it off as he struggled, screaming…and that sound, high-pitched screeching as the scissors cut through his beloved tresses... He could think of nothing more.

            His oculars, smoky and flat, slipped over his reflections shoulder to see the hollow smile of his mother, trying so desperately to reassure him it would all be all right, although seeming to convince herself of the same thing. Was she talking to herself or to him? Her lips moved soundlessly for a second, until he realized he had just mentally tuned her out, and then dimly, kicked his senses back in.

            "- and I promise you, we'll be out of here by next week and safe, where he won't lay a fin-"

            And he turned the sound off once more, having heard all of these lies before.

            _Hit mute and it all goes away. Hit power and the world fades away. Background noises, all of them. I don't know them anymore._

_No  
No, I don't wanna hear you tell me everything is wonderful now  
No  
No, I don't wanna hear you tell me everything is wonderful now_

_I don't wanna hear you say  
That I will understand someday  
No, no, no, no_

            "Duo?! What happ-"

            "Heh. Just got sick of it is all, Quatre. Nothing to be worried about!" His eyes, dancing in that mechanical, autopilot way, shifted to the blonde boy, as his smile turned to ice in the warm shallows of his face. _Wufei…_And here walked the object of his need, his desire, as his father's voice rang hard in his head.

_"I won't stand for our kid to be a faggot, too, damnit!"_

            "Maxwell? Is…that you?" The stunned question was almost comical as it spilled from bronze lips, a few escaped strands of obsidian silk brushing across his palmers. "Your hair…"

            _My face is hurting from smiling so hard. It hurts, I hurt…_

            "You don't like it, 'Fei-fei?" He threw in an adorable pout for good measure, his eyelashes flickering up and down. 

            But the Asian boy never got to respond as Quatre intervened, his ocean eyes steel amongst the waves. "Your father did this, didn't he?"

            There it was, laid out on the table, where his brain couldn't deny the existence any longer. His face crumbled like an avalanche, gaze finding the security of the floor and adoring the tiles of the school hallway for the moment.

            "That's it! I'm getting you out of that house, Duo! You can't-"

            "No!" he shouted, his head snapping up with the panic of a trapped animal. "You can't make it okay! No one can! I can't leave my mother, and I can't take her with me! This is the way things are going to be, and someday… someday… it'll be all good, but 'til then, I have to do what I can to survive."

            "Is this survival?" Wufei interjected, laying a soft hand against the American's elbow. "Physically, perhaps, but your spirit is broken. Aren't you already dead then, for what is a body without a spirit?"

            "I-"

I don't wanna hear you say  
You both have grown in a different way  
No, no, no, no

            The screams surrounded him before he even made his way through the doorway, as he found himself standing frozen on the front porch, hand poised before the knob. Alone, to return to the yells, the suffering, the burning fires of Hades, he didn't know what to do. He glanced over his shoulder, still in shock that he had turned down his friends offers to shelter him, but his mother's promises on some perfect life still lingered.

            But now, he heard the screaming, frightened shrieks that ran like icy tendrils and gripped his body, freezing him to the spot. Words were mangled in that mess, his mother crying out not in her customary pain, but in a relieving rage that seemed as though she had finally accepted all that came about her…and changed it.

            "I said NO! You bastard! You fucker! You asshole! This is your fault! Do you hear me? YOUR FAULT! I wanted to leave you finally, but you wouldn't let me! YOUR FAULT!"

            He didn't know what broke his paralysis, but it lifted like a fog and he bolted into the house, a house that he couldn't recognize any longer from the tumbled over furniture, the glaring cries, the maroon paint splattered across the walls. 

            _Not paint. Blood._

            He broke into a sprint, tearing through the living room to the kitchen to find his hysterical mother still punctuating each word with a knife slash, each wail with a stab. Her hair lay in matted streams against her bruised and bloodied cheeks, the black marks so dark against her ghost cheeks. Her cerulean eyes were wide, blank, hollow, and didn't even register Duo as he came in and stopped in the doorway, numb and oh-so-pale.

            "Mother…"

I don't wanna meet your friends  
And I don't wanna start over again  
I just want my life to be the same, just like it used to be

            "Duo…"

            The knife clattered to the floor, beside the tattered cadaver of his father, and he watched it's decent in shock, before turning back to face his mother. "What…?"

            "He wouldn't let us go, Duo," she explained, her voice smooth like satin as if trying to convince him of her sanity. "He said he would kill us. I couldn't let that happen, now could I?"

            His breath locked in his throat as he leaned against the doorway, sliding down it slowly. His hand reached down to automatically still his decent, but slipped through a blood patch and caused him to fall hard and fast. "You…killed….him…."

            "I had to, son!" Quickly, she went to him, kneeling beside him as drawing him into a hug, which he bore no emotion in, blank doll, marionette. "I promised you a new life, and I meant it. We're free."

            "Free…" He tasted the word as if he had never beheld such a fantastic ideal before. "Free…"

            "See? I did it for us!" Her words grew frantic, and he realized dully that she was trying to convince herself more than she was him, again, rationalizing it all totally. Somewhere, his brain screamed out her insanity, but the shock made everything hard to hear, hard to realize. "Everything is for us!"

            And somewhere far away, sirens sounded, and she bore that frightened animal look in a heartbeat, her eyes flickering to him, the poor child still consumed in shock. She darted across the floor, grabbing the knife and handing it out to him, handle first.

            "Duo, the police are coming, and they're going to try to take me away, but you can't let them." Half-pleading, half-mad, she turned her cerulean eyes to him in a frantic gesture, lips working faster and faster as the words spilled out.

            _Mom…_

            "I'll die in jail, Duo, but you, you they won't hurt! They can't send you to prison, cause you're so young. Please, please, son, I love you, don't let them take me away! Please! Say you did it! Protect me as I did you all these years! Please!"

            And the world fell into mute as he nodded slowly, taking that knife, his glazed eyes staring emotionlessly over her shoulder as the police burst into the room, guns aimed at a small pale boy sitting on the blood-covered floor, holding a butcher knife beside his apparent grieving mother.

Some days I hate everything  
I hate everything  
Everyone and everything  
Please don't tell me everything is wonderful now

            "I can't believe they let that murdering asshole off an temporary insanity! They let people get away with too much shit nowadays!"

            It seemed the home of the "Fighting Panthers of Topeka" were more and more filled with these comments, these shouts of anger and rage, with voices that bounced down the half-filled cement corridors and in classrooms that were forever too small for the large number of student body. Of course…what did they know?

            Wufei grit his teeth against the ignorant high school students, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked through the hallways to find Quatre. Dimly, he felt the eyes of every person on him, making him a bit self-conscious, until he found the blonde boy standing at his locker. It had been three months now, the trial having finally worn itself to a conclusion, with help of Quatre and his testimony on the grievous abuse by his deranged father. But, none of it ever sat correctly with the Asian boy, none of it ever seemed real.

            "Wufei, I got this in the mail today," Quatre whispered, handing an envelope with scratchy writing across it, script he found strikingly familiar.

            _Duo…_ Immediately, he tore into the letter, reading it frantically. God, Duo, the things he never got to say, sitting so desperately on his tongue, tasting bittersweet since he wouldn't see him to share them fully.

Dear Wufei,

            Hey, funny how things turn out, eh? It's been a fun ride,

            and I'm sorry I can't be there right now, but from what I

            hear I'll only be hospitalized for a year before they let me

            out. Something about dealing with stress or some shit. I 

            don't know, don't care. I'm sorry for turning your guys' lives

            into hell, cause I know the kids there ain't that forgiving.

            Heh, tell them they'll be next if they don't stop. 

            We gotta protect what's ours, right? Perfect lives aren't

            handed to you; you gotta make them yourselves. My mom's

            happy, and I want you guys to be, too. My soul's still here

since I got to help her and you; I ain't dead. Love you all.

                                    Shinigami

            "What's Shinigami?" Quatre asked in a breathless wonder as he read over the boy's shoulder.

            "God of Death," Wufei muttered, his mouth dry and obsidian eyes slipping shut. "He didn't do it, Quatre. His mother did."

            A small gasp was his response, and when his lashes parted, he could see the blonde holding his heart. "How do you know, Wufei?"

            "I just read between the lines."

I don't wanna hear you tell me everything is wonderful now 

            "No, Doctor, I don't know what really ever triggered it," Miss Maxwell said, brushing the hair from her cerulean eyes with an errant hand. "Now, if we're finished here…?"

            "Yes, yes, Ma'am," the older man replied, looking down at the charts laid across his desk. "Have a pleasant afternoon."

            "You, too, sir," and with that, she left, walking out to the smiling arms of her lover, and the freedom her perfect life had finally given her.

            "Everything all right with your son, love?" Treize asked, holding open the car door for her.

            "Everything is wonderful."

The End 


End file.
